Secret Santa
by serenelystrange
Summary: Spoilers for the Ho Ho Ho Job... What if Eliot wasn't quite done with that Santa suit yet...    Written for my friend Rebekah, hope you like it!


A/N – Written for my friend Rebekah. Merry Christmas! Takes place after the Ho Ho Ho Job. As did my last fic, lol. Oh well.

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"Gotta mail some letters," Eliot says in passing, as he barrels past the team, through the bar.

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It's not until he's been gone for a whole minute that the others realize how strange Eliot's departure was.

"He does realize it's Christmas Eve night, right?" Hardison asks the others, "There's no mail until Monday."

"He took the sword," Parker notes, even though she hasn't stopped petting the money in her hands.

"We should probably be worried," Nate says, dryly, as if trying to decide how truthful his statement is.

"Nate," Sophie replies, "He's dressed as Santa Claus. How much trouble can he really get into."

Nate doesn't reply, just lets the statement settle over them all.

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"Aw, hell," Hardison sighs after a moment's pause, "Eliot's gonna chop up some bad guys, ain't he?"

"You don't _chop_ with that sword," Parker says, rolling her eyes, "You use _finesse."_

Hardison scoffs, "Yeah, you _finesse _off chunks of flesh and bone."

"Exactly," Parker grins; a gleeful and slightly terrifying expression.

It should be hard to be intimidated by a skinny blonde in an elf costume, but Hardison still is.

Doesn't mean he's not still in love with her, but that's a conversation for another day.

"I'm sure Eliot won't kill anyone," Sophie cuts them off and tries to reassure the group at the same time.

"I can see it now," Nate groans, "Front page of the Globe is going to read 'Vigilante Santa wreaks terror on Downtown Boston.'"

"Don't be silly," Parker pats Nate's hand reassuringly, "Eliot won't get caught. He's good. Almost as good as me."

Surprisingly, the statement does reassure Nate.

"Well then," he says raising his glass, "here's to Eliot Claus, Vigilante Santa."

"Cheers," Sophie laughs, clinking her glass with his.

Hardison just shakes his head and goes back to playing with his present.

Parker doesn't clink her glass either, as she's busy munching on gingerbread cookies with the hand not petting the money.

"Where did you get cookies?" Sophie asks, unable to help herself.

"Elves!" Parker says, quickly, "Evil elves. They had it coming."

"I'm sure they did," Hardison says, without looking up. The smile in his voice is apparent.

Parker just sighs happily.

"I love Christmas."

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Eliot watches the scene in front of him carefully, waiting. His sword is strapped safely to his back, but he knows it won't do any good in this situation.

There's too many of them, even for him. The potential for collateral damage is too high.

He eyes the building, looking for any signs of weakness.

There's nothing that wouldn't require Parker.

He sighs and squares his shoulders. There's no other way.

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"Where do you suppose Eliot really went?" Sophie whispers to Nate, as Hardison and Parker argue over the best gingerbread cookie dipping methods.

Lord knows where they found milk in a bar, but she's learned to stop asking.

Nate laughs quietly, enjoying the scent of Sophie's hair as it fans across his shoulder, somehow still sweet smelling after their day.

"No idea. But he's not out fighting crime. At least, probably not."

"I'd say fifty-fifty," Sophie shrugs, "Or maybe he's with a girl."

"Ho ho ho," Nate smirks, flinching when Sophie smacks his arm.

"Be nice."

Nate just sips his drink to avoid another smack.

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It goes smoother than Eliot expected, and he's done before he can really call too much attention to himself. A chiming bell sounds as he opens the door, and he cringes. But nobody's paying attention to him anymore. Shifting under the weight on his back, Eliot adjusts his hat and beard and takes off into the night.

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He works quickly and silently; efficiently. The streets of Boston are oddly quiet, hushed in the Christmas Eve lull. The crunching of snow beneath his feet and the hiss of the wind is the only noise that he hears. He's almost done when he smacks into, literally, a bundled up woman in her fifties.

"Sorry," he murmurs, ducking his head down and shoving a package into her hands, before taking off.

He hears her calling out after him, distantly, but he's already gone.

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As Eliot walks into the office Monday morning, he just knows. Knows that they know. He sighs, and supposes that's what he gets for working with the best criminals in the world. Or at the very least, on this side of the Atlantic.

He walks to the counter, casually, and pours himself a cup of coffee, avoiding the eyes he knows are on him.

Nobody's surprised when Parker is the first to speak, but everyone _is _surprised when she launches herself at Eliot, wrapping him in a hug.

He stands still for a moment, shocked, but then hugs her back, quickly and only slightly awkwardly.

"You were totally Santa!" she nearly squeals the word.

Eliot decides it's too early for this much enthusiasm, but knows that there's no stopping her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says, instead, giving her a dead-eyed glare as he sips the coffee that had luckily been on the counter during her surprise attack.

"Ahem," Nate interrupts, moving to stand on the other side of the counter, newspaper in his hands.

"Not exactly the headline I was expecting, but..."

He trails off as Eliot growls and snatches the paper from his hands.

"I think it's sweet," Sophie puts in from across the room, where she's sitting and sipping her tea.

"As sugar and spice, and everything nice," Hardison agrees, in a tone that makes Eliot want to hit him. Which really, is any tone, but still.

"How'd you pull it off?" Nate asks, mocking gone, in favor of open curiosity.

Eliot sighs, knowing he may as well tell the truth.

"Macy's was open until mid-night. I bought some stuff and dropped off a few packages. It's no big deal, alright."

"You _PAID?_" Parker says, gasping, "Why would you pay good money for what you could steal, easily?"

"Because it was _Christmas_, Parker," Eliot growls, the 'there's something wrong with you' expression spread across his face.

"Did you have a sleigh?"

"Shut up, Hardison."

"How about reindeer?"

"I said _shut UP, Hardison_."

"I especially loved the quote from the eye-witness," Sophie interrupts, silencing the boys' argument.

"Ooh, I didn't see the quote!" Parker says, and she's nearly bouncing, "what's it say?"

Sophie grins, then affects a slight Boston accent as she speaks.

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"**I don't know who he really was, but he was dressed as Santa, that's for sure. He was just standing by my steps, ran right into me! And then he practically threw a box at me and then took off! I didn't get a good look at his face, but I could tell he had gorgeous blue eyes, even with that ridiculous beard."**

**Anne – age 56**

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Hardison snorts, spraying orange soda all over his shirt. He's laughing too hard to care.

"Oh man, I wonder what she would've said about your hair."

Eliot just growls again, not dignifying the hacker with a response.

"You did a good thing, Eliot," Sophie says, smiling kindly, "Look at me."

Eliot looks up, unwillingly falling under the spell of her dark eyes.

"You did a good thing," she repeats, "You gave a bunch of families a little bit of Christmas, when they couldn't otherwise afford it. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yeah," Hardison adds, "I just like teasing you, man, but seriously, it's awesome that you did that. We all still know you could kill us with a fork."

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"A spoon, even," Eliot replies, smirking as the tension in the room dissolves.

"How'd you know what houses to go to?" Parker asks.

Eliot smirks, "Hardison's not the only one who can Google shit."

"Google?" Hardison replies, eyes widening with fake exasperation, "You think what I do, you can learn from Google? No way, man. Mm-mm."

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"OK," Nate cuts in, "Now that we've all mocked Eliot, can we get to work? Evil billionaire to take down and all."

The team shrugs and moves to go back to the work area, but Nate catches Eliot's arm and hold him back for a moment.

"Check out the last paragraph," he says quietly, giving Eliot a smile that manages to be both sad and kind, at the same time.

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Eliot waits until Nate has distracted the others with his new information before turning to read the paper more carefully.

It's another quote, this one from a single dad with a five year old daughter. Eliot reads it quickly, then again, slower.

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"**Dear Santa: Daddy said you wouldn't be able to get me a present this year, but he was wrong. Thank you, Santa. I love you." **

**Megan – age 5.**

**.**

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Eliot smiles, wide and bright, but only for an instant, before placing the paper back on the counter and turning to the group, stoic expression back in place.

"What are you all looking at?" he growls, "We got work to do."

He can feel their hidden smiles, but he doesn't mind.

At times like this, he's glad he's the good guy.

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THE END


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